


Embers of the Past

by RadClaw



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Canon compliant? Maybe, Did somebody ask for angsty WoL backstory exposition?, Estinien and Ysayle are also there but barely, Hyur Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), No 5.3 spoilers!!, No ships in this fic really, no? well. Here it is anyways, though I tried to subtly hint at the possibility of yshtola/wol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26045506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadClaw/pseuds/RadClaw
Summary: Roland Surlaint is the Warrior of Light. Strong, kind, giving. But there are moments, easily missed, when he seems not entirely himself. His friends meditate on this nature of his.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	Embers of the Past

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something that's been in my head for a while now, and after 5.3 I decided to give it a go. Probably not the most canon compliant thing in the world, but whatever, this is fanfiction. 
> 
> Is this work too angsty? Maybe. But that's fine by me.

Thancred caught it first. Unsurprising perhaps, given his job. It was little things, at first. The way Roland seemed to lose focus during downtime. His tendency to clam up for seemingly no reason. This man was a hero, had helped innumerous people for no reason other than to help, had stopped primals when all others were tempered. His was a warm, boasting presence, and the moments where he seemed to retreat in on himself seemed to Thancred too odd, not even mentioning how a Hyur ended up with an Elezen surname.

  
Really, Thancred should have just left it alone. After all, was this man not his friend? But bad habits died hard. His inquiries had started soft, an odd question amongst his duties, a formal inquiry here or there. He started where he’d first met Roland, where he had assumed Roland had lived, Ul’dah. But his questions were met with no answers. Oh, people knew of Roland. More than that, people _loved_ Roland. Thancred couldn’t toss a gil without it hitting someone whose life had been changed by his queries unstoppable urge to assist. But no one had known anything about him.

  
Not Momodi nor Hamon had known anything about Roland, other than that they were both fairly certain that he had arrived in Ul’dah, as opposed to having lived there. Thancred’s check into the city's records had yielded much the same result; he could hardly check every record of a citizen’s existence, but he was unable to find anything mentioning Roland before this year. In fact, the earliest record he could find, of Roland’s registration to the local adventurer’s guild, had been but a scant few days before Thancred had first met him.

  
From there he tried the other city states, but the story there was much the same. People knew of Roland, but Thancred couldn’t find a trace of his existence past the praising of other people and a few inn receipts. Almost as if he had never existed before suddenly appearing, a hero when the nation needed one. Not unlike… Thancred put the notion away. Thinking like that would get him nowhere, and besides, how could a primal be so… human.

Thancred had nearly been ready to dismiss Roland’s origin as that of a farmer or fisherman when Alphinaud had caught word of his investigation. 

  
“I can’t say I’m aware of where he’s from, I’m afraid, though I was there with him when he arrived in Ul’dah. He’s not from Eorzea, that much I do know. Why do you want to know, if I might ask?”

  
“Oh no reason, just a bit of fun to pass the time.” Not from Eorzea? Well, that certainly opened up the question by quite a bit. Anywhere in the world, but where was he from that he had that distant look in his eye. Like he had stared into hell?

  
~~~

  
Y’shtola noticed it first, of course. The way Roland would smile one moment, and look as if he had heard a distant storm the next. The way he tensed up at the slightest sound, as if ready for combat at a moment's notice. The way he tried to hide the scar on his forehead with his hair, and the embarrassment with which he told a story when anybody asked.

“Oh, it’s nothing exciting. I got but too excited once when handling a friend's blade. The chirurgeons were none too happy about that.”

  
Y’shtola didn’t buy it. Whatever had happened to Roland, it scared him deeply, more than just physically. But Y’shtola didn’t judge. Whoever Roland was before, whatever he had seen, was immaterial. He proved on the daily that he was a hero. Still, it was hard not to notice him, in those moments when everybody would celebrate a victory, and his smile looked just a little put upon. Those nights when you’d bask in the glow of another primal defeated, only to find the guest of honor missing.

  
She had caught Roland once, like that. While everyone else was in The Walking Sands, toasting to their victory, she had gone outside for some fresh air. Y’shtola didn’t think he noticed her when she caught him, sitting on the ground, staring out into Vesper Bay. Beyond Vesper Bay. She thought about saying something, but comfort did not come easy to her. That was Alphinaud’s territory, or Thancred’s if he had enough in him. Instead she just looked at him.

  
No, Y’shtola didn’t care who he was before. But she did hope that the weight of it did not drag Roland down.

  
~~~

  
Alphinaud understood. He felt the same even. As the heat from the campfire warmed him, he thought he knew too well how Roland felt. Losing their friends, that was a pain unknowable. An empty pit. As the silence between him, Roland, Estinien, and Ysayle carried on after they had bared their souls, Roland stared beyond the fire, his eyes unfocused. Alphinaud knew the pain well.

  
“I’m a bad person.” Roland said, almost under his breath. Alphinaud looked at him with shock. Bad? He didn’t understand. What had happened wasn’t Roland’s fault, it was his. How could Roland think he was bad?

  
“I’m not from here. Eorzea. I… My name is Aetius pyr Satrius. I was born in the capitol. My parents hated the empire. My father’s family were old members of the senate, and in his eyes Garlemald stood best as a republic. The whole family was like that. Involved in anti-empire groups. It terrified me. I was young, and I was so scared. Scared of what might happen to them. I knew they would never forgive me, but I… I joined the military. I thought that the empire might be willing to overlook their opposition if their son was a loyal member. So I joined, I had to. And I was good. Really good. Good enough to be placed under Nael Van Darnus. To be there, on the front lines, fighting for my country. When they told me my mission, I thought it grand. I never stopped to question, to think. Never considered what Meteor might actually be. Then it happened, we went up against the allied forces of Eorzea… And Meteor was unleashed.” His tone hardly wavered, but tears now started to drip from his eyes.

“It was Hell. Pure, unadulterated. Fire reigned from on high, indiscriminately. I never thought. I stood there, aghast. I watched as the fire took friend and foe alike. I watched as it took everyone... I had killed before. But when you’re skilled, the time between striking and death is so quick, it never really sets in. But I saw then. I saw people burning alive, dying slow, torturous deaths. Because of me. Something broke then, I think. I tried, gods help me, I tried to help. Tried to save as many as I could, Garlean or Eorzean. But too few. Too few. Even now, when I close my eyes, tis all I can do but hear their screams. Hell.” Roland let out a breath of air. Alphinaud stared at him, aghast. Garlean? A soldier? He could not believe it, even as he looked at Roland’s face, a picture of torment. Roland sank to the ground.

  
“I left then, returned home. I thought, maybe in the crossfire people would assume I was dead. I could go home. See my family again. The stupid wishes of a child. The empire did not look as fondly on my service as I might have hoped. I saw what remained, of our house. Of what I can only assume was my family. I didn’t look too long, I didn’t want it to be stuck there, forever. I had tried so hard to believe. To believe in the empire. And my reward was ashes. Then they caught me. 

  
“I spent five years in a Garlean jail cell for abandoning my post. Then I was released. No explanation given, just a bundle of clothes and an excommunication. I found out later that Gaius Van Baelsar had arranged for me to be released. He argued that someone shouldn’t be punished for refusing the orders of The White Raven. It was a hollow release. I was left with nothing but to set out and find somewhere new. I picked a new name from prison registries and booked passage. I believe that’s when we met, Alphinaud. On that carriage ride to Ul’dah.” Roland closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. “I apologise. For everything. For keeping it secret, for what I did. For pretending to be a hero. But I’m tired. So very tired of losing those important to me. And before we go on, I thought it was important for everyone to know. Know who I am, really. The monster.”

  
“Hrmph.” Estinien sighed. It would seem we all have our sins to bear.”

  
Ysayle nodded in agreement.

  
“Roland,” Alphinaud started, and Roland flinched at the name. “What you have done. I cannot say it isn’t your fault. You killed, and fought. For a horrible cause. But you know what you did is wrong. And it’s written clear across your face how much it tortures you. And look at all the good you’ve done, the lives you saved. Without you, we might, no, we _would_ all be dead. You may have been Aetius pyr Satrius once, but now all you are is Roland Surlaint. Hero. Warrior of light. And my friend. All you can do now is move forward, and do better. And I’d say you’re doing a great job so far.” Roland looked at him, tears in his eyes, a vulnerability Alphinaud had never seen.

  
No, Alphinaud was wrong. He didn’t understand. But he was starting to.


End file.
